Forever Brothers
by UlulaniSavanahAdams
Summary: America gets shot and England is concerned. AmericaXEngland


Okayy... So this is my first fanfic. The main idea is based off of an RP me and my sister have going on so half of the credit goes to her. Since this is my first fanfic I can't help it if it sucks, so don't kill me. PLEASE. If you guys like it I'll continue writing. If not my heart will be broken and I won't finnish it.

I don't own Hetalia. (I wish every day that I did)

_ssss

An accident.

An innocent, uncalled for, unintentional accident. That's all it was.

Germany was showing an antique gun of his to Russia. They were outside the world conference building sitting on a bench when it happened. Germany was showing off an old pistol he still carried around with him. As he and his friend talked over the design, Germany toyed with it in his hands. Carefully examining the butt of the gun, the barrel, the trigger, and the intricate gold leafed patterns. As they were talking, Germany's finger slid unconsciously to the trigger. Just as Russia was commenting on how beautiful it was, the other nations finger tightened around it. Just before he opened his mouth to reply...

BANG.

They both jumped simultaneously.

Germany had had the gun pointed toward the door of the building when it went off so neither he nor Russia was hurt. Unfortunately though, America had been walking out the door at just the wrong moment.

The bullet got him in the stomach.

America didn't even have time to think. He passed out and crumbled to the ground. England had been coming out behind him and saw America go down. He let out a startled cry and knelt over America.

"Alfred? Alfred! Can you hear me?"

By this time, Germany had run up the steps to see if he had done any serious damage. He got on his hands and knees to examine the situation. Blood was pouring from the entry wound. The bullet had hit the victim in lower left section of his abdomen. From the way it seemed, no vital organs had been hit, but there was a heck of a lot of bleeding.

"Scheiße!" exclaimed Germany. England was looking at him accusingly. He already felt terrible, why must this bushy-browed brit make him feel worse?

"I didn't mean to shoot him!" he pleaded, "I didn't even mean to fire the gun!"

"Well it doesn't really matter now!" England sneered, "What's done is done. And what you've done is shoot one of the most powerful countries on Earth." Here England became red in the face and angry. "I think it would be best for you to just leave."

By now there was a small assembly of countries gathered around them. China showing concern, Canada looking bewildered, and Russia looking amused. Germany, still feeling terrible, left with his gun.

Back on the steps all the countries were talking at once. Blood was still pouring from America's abdomen and England was getting worried. "Listen up!" he shouted, "If we don't hurry Alfred... well... he- I DON'T KNOW! Someone just pick him up and follow me!"

Japan and China followed the direction. China wrapped his arms around the bleeding nation's middle, and Japan grabbed his legs. Together they followed England to his car.

"Kiku, please drive us to my house," said England, "I have some medical equipment there."

"Hai, right away," Japan consented.

Japan climbed in the driver's seat with China in the passenger spot. England sat in the back holding America's head on his lap.

"Uhg..." America was regaining consciousness. "B-Brittain?" said the younger country weakly, "Where are we?" he looked down at his bloody military uniform. "Wha- why-"

"Sh." said England sharply, "You've been shot. We're taking you back to my place where we can get you some help."

Secretly, England was worried to pieces. Both China and Japan knew that, but that was fine. He positively COULD NOT let America see that. He would be taunted about it until the end of time if his younger brother knew about his concern.

America was looking up at England. His facial expression was a combination of fear, confusion, and pain. It reminded him of a time when if America had been even a little hurt he would come running to England for help. Those were the days in England's book, the days when America was a small new country and they acknowledged each other as siblings.

Those days were long gone.

America had grown up and out-grown his "Big Brother" long ago. He had gone on to do great things. All the while almost never truly needing England's help.

As the car sped along towards his house and America's head laid on his lap, England reminisced. He recalled several events from when America was younger. How they used to play together, and how they had this one special climbing tree the he himself never climbed... Until he made a mistake.

America had always been strong willed and free spirited. So when England started taking (not asking, TAKING) money right out of his younger brother's pocket, problems arose. At first he had assured the younger nation that it would only be a little bit, but soon he got deeper and deeper into debt. He began taking more and more of his brother's money.

America was pissed. He was getting bigger and bigger, and his brother was still pushing him around like he was some little kid. He wasn't gonna take it anymore. He stopped doing what he was told, and stopped opening the door when England knocked. One night he even snuck into the guest bedroom where England stayed whenever he visited and stole a box of his favorite tea he hid in the drawer. He then snuck out to the pond and through in the entire box of tea. Who cared if it was freezing outside? His rebellious thoughts kept him warm.

From there it only got worse. America fought against everything. The older nation couldn't stand it once they got into a war. He always went home bruised and battered, and America was no better off. England lost the war in the end, and from then on they never considered each other brothers again.

England was brought back to the present by a jolt. The car seemed to have hit a bump. As the vehicle hit the bump, America let out a loud, pained cry. He tried to wrap his arms around himself, but England held his wrists in place.

"Alfred," he said, not a hint of sympathy in his voice, "you need to be as still as possible. We'll be at my house soon."

America's eyes were tightly closed and England thought he saw a tear in the corner of one of them. "But Arty," protested the wounded one in a way that almost made Arthur's heart ache, "it hurts really bad."

"I know," replied the brit, "we're going to fix it."

And with that America lost consciousness once more.

So? What did ya think? Rate. Review. Don't criticize me if my historical facts aren't all the way straight!


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